


That Damn Hero

by mosvalsky



Series: Will Lines [2]
Category: Fable (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosvalsky/pseuds/mosvalsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which faking has horrible, horrible consequences.</p><p>Rated T for later chapters (may change, depending on my mood)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Damn Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say the hero's like 16-17 here

The young hero watched attentively as the two upper guild members displayed correct fighting techniques. He understood and knew how to emulate every one of the moves he was shown, but still, he threw in an occasional confused head tilt with the rest of his nodding at the material. It was terrible behavior. Not something a future hero should do. And he should be ashamed he was wasting so much of the two men's time. 

But the way Maze looked as he lunged to attack, his face twisted, his breath coming in heavy from effort, the occasional grunt as he brought down a blow, his muscles showing obviously beneath his thin shirt...

He constantly thanked Avo that the sun was beating down so brutally that day.

But he soon realized that he had made one too many shows of confusion, as the guild master, finally frustrated with his lack of understanding, decided that it would be best if he learned first hand.

He mentally swore. He was going to have to fight this man, this god he worshipped hopelessly. 

And he was going to lose horribly. 

He reluctantly switched places with the guild master, trying his best to stand tall despite every part of him wanting to shrink away at that moment.

Reaching deep inside to find a little bit of courage, he looked hard at the man that was bothering him so much. Maze smirked in response, widely misjudging the cause of the stony gaze set on him. 

"This is ridiculous," he tried to convince himself, using his sternest mental voice, "he's your mentor. Just fight him." He strongly disagreed with his mind, but he tried to go along with it anyway. "Just fight him," he repeated, attempting to comfort himself with the mantra.

He drew his blade and Maze readied his staff in turn. "It's just a flourish," he thought further, "and it's done." Alright. 

As he stood there ready to attack, he seemed to have forgotten everything he had ever learned about the sword. And suddenly he lost all guilt for pretending to be confused. "Oh Avo," he thought helplessly, "what do I do." Maze looked at him expectantly, and the young hero began to panic. His eyes were boring through him and making his head dizzy and there was no way he could even hold his blade steady, let alone use it effectively. 

But just as he was about to lose hope in all his abilities before the man he wished more than anything to impress, Maze pulled him from his thoughts, bellowing out, "Well, if you won't begin, I will." His staff lashed out, nearly hitting his right shoulder, but his reflexes managed to kick in and he returned the blow, their weapons meeting with a loud clash halfway between them.

"Not bad!" Maze praised, raising his staff again and lunging towards him, which the young hero again managed to evade. 

He glanced offside at the guild master, who looked pleased enough. But the loss of concentration allowed Maze to strike hard right at his chest. He cried out as the pain shot through him and doubled over, clutching at himself. 

"It can't be that bad," Maze responded, unaffected by the clearly pained form before him.

The young hero glared at him, his voice hoarse as he moaned that his chest hurt.

They continued in that manner for some time, Maze refusing to believe that he was in any sort of pain, and him spitefully bitching about how much agony he was just caused.

After a long enough time, Maze finally gave in, crying that he had had enough and leading him tightly by the arm, his nails nearly digging into him as he walked them to his chambers.

"Sit down," he ordered as he released his grip, practically throwing him into a chair, "I'll call for some ice." 

The young hero murmured a thank you even as he turned to walk away, which he would have thought had gone unheard were it not for the slightest show of a smile he could barely see from his largely hidden face. The thought of making him smile in any way caused warmth spread to through him, and at that moment he hardly even cared about his pain. Though as soon as Maze had returned from fetching ice, his pain immediately resurfaced. He was scowling fiercely, and he suddenly felt extremely nervous being subject to his magnanimity.

He nearly cowered as the menacing man stepped towards him, his jaw set back and his eyes eerily cold. He set one hand gently on his shoulder as he shoved the ice into his chest with the other. 

"Ow," he winced, though the feeling was still less icy than the stare he was forced to endure. And the excessive pressure was still less painful than the thoughts of what might be upsetting his louring mentor.

After a fairly uncomfortable and long silence, Maze managed to speak, "You're becoming very skilled with your blade." His words had a bitter edge to them, and the young hero grew more anxious with every syllable of the compliment.

"Th-thank you," he stuttered, still having difficulty understanding the situation in any capacity. 

But still, the man's hand was so warm against his shoulder, and he could feel the strength it of despite his oddly light grip. The awkwardness of the situation was brutally palpable, but a large part of him wished it would never change.

"Which is why," Maze continued, beginning to grit his teeth, "I'm curious as to why you put on that show of incompetence."

The young hero's eyes grew wide, and he opened his mouth to speak, though no words managed to come to mind. When he closed his mouth again, the corner of Maze's twitched. He suddenly felt awfully close to him. Too close. He could almost feel his breath on his cheek, and he began to wonder when exactly Maze had gotten so near.

"I...I just wanted to see the move again so I knew I had it down for sure," he mumbled, hoping Maze would be satisfied with the answer.

He wasn't. He grimaced, removing the ice and stepping back finally. "I'm doing you a favor. You could at least tell the truth."

The young hero was shocked. He didn't know what to say besides, "I...I am..."

The icy blue eyes grew even colder, and he knew he made a mistake in what he said, but there was nothing he could do now. Besides, it wasn't as if he could tell the truth.

So when Maze told him to leave his quarters, he was hit with a pang of agony for more painful than his mild physical affliction. But still unable to admit the truth, despite the immediate consequences of his poor lie, he dropped his head and left Maze, every part of him aching as he walked from strayed from the option he knew was better.


End file.
